Early Saturday morning, Atto called my house. "Hey!" He says, rushed. "Hey Atto, how did you get this number?" "Never mind that, I don't have much time, my dad is nearly up. Can you meet me at Crownhill Cemetery in Amhurst?" "I guess, it's pretty far away. I could take a bus though." "Good, okay, take a bus. See ya." Just before he hangs up I hear a man say, "Atto, who are you calling? How did you get out? Atto!" 'Weird,' I think, 'Why would he be afraid of his dad? And what would he get out of?' I throw on a black hoodie and knapsack. "Hey mom, can I borrow $2.25?" "Why?" asks my mom, ever suspicious. "Bus fare, to Amhurst." "Why are you going to Amhurst?" "Atto wants to show me something." "I don't like that boy, he's strange." "Just because he is strange doesn't make him bad." She frowns but hands over the money. "Thanks mom, you're a peach!" She laughs, "Tell your brother that." I run out of the house and past the library to the bus stop. I get there just as the bus pulls up. "Exact change only." barks the bus driver. I shove my money in his hand and take a seat in the back of the bus. In front of me is an old woman with a kettle; across from me is a business woman on her iPad. I reach in my bag and pull out my custom, leather-bound notebook. I start to write of Atto. I list the things I know about him and espically the things I don't.
1)Wears weird clothes
2)Too nice
3)Defies popular belief
4)Wears same outfit everyday
5)Dad problems?
6)Truamatic experience?
7)Likes to annoy!
8)Innocent
9)Naïve
I shut my book and look at the woman in front of me. Her hair is long, straight and gray. Her eyes are blue and brown. She is wearing a gaudy bandana and long, blue dress. Just as I am about to ask her about the contents of her pot, the driver shouts, "CROWNHILL CEMETERY, AMHURST!" I quickly jump off and run to the gate where I see Atto waiting for me. He is wringing his hands nervously. "Hey Atto, what's up?" "Oh, you know, moon, birds, sun, stars." I laugh, "No, I mean, what's going on?" He stops moving. "Atto?" I say, shoving him. "Atto?" No response again. "Atto, this isn't funny anymore. Come on. Atto!" I finally scream. He starts moving. "Sorry, what did you say?" "What were you doing?" "Playing hard-core freeze tag!""Should I ask?" "Do you have twenty minutes?" "Depends on what we're doing." "We...are going...drumroll please," I give him an enthusiastic drumroll on my legs, "GRAVE GUESSING!" "What?" "We look at people's headstones and guess what they were like." "Can you give me an example?" "Sure," he walks over to a grave marked Meister, "This guy was rich, had lots of friends, liked poetry and liked azaleas." "How do you know that, Mr. Smarty-Pants?" "His headstone is huge, he has a lot of flowers, azealeas, on his his grave, and his epitaph is an Edgar Allen Poe quote." I cross my arms skeptically, "How do you know for sure?" He jumps up and sits on Meister's gravestone, "I don't, all I can do is guess. C'mon, let's move on to the next one." Atto gives amazing inferences and even I do one or two. Finally, after going through almost every grave, I grab Atto's arm,"Now I get to show you something cool." I drag him across and up the street to a small, square building. He looks up in awe, "Is this really where hot dogs go to die?" I laugh, "Just wait till you try the food." I swing open the door to the building and order us two hot dogs each, a basket of fries to share, and two pops. Atto tears eagerly into his dogs and fries. "No way is this a dead dog. Do they use real dog?" "No, who uses dog in hot dogs?"
He looks around nervously, "Not me! I never use dog in my dog, nope, never!" I laugh, "Atto, you are one strange bird!" "Well, you are one tasteful Komodo Dragon." I laugh again, "Thanks, I think." "No problem! Say, have you ever met my family?" "No," "Well, one of my cousins is getting married, and I am inviting you."